


I Hope You Know

by daisyqiaolianmay (skinman)



Series: The Parts That Make A Whole [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Absence, Comfort, F/M, Family, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Reunion, Set upon May's return in Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/daisyqiaolianmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I said if 3x04 didn't give me a May/Skye(Daisy) reunion I would write one. </p><p>"Humour. Adherence. Their walls might look different on the surface, but when you get down to it they’re both just walls. They both serve the same function; they’re built to keep people out… to keep people in."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hope You Know

_“May?”_

She’d ran to her, into her arms. She’d felt a little embarrassed originally, not much, but just a little as she’d drawn away. The keen, slightly curious looks of her colleagues, her friends, making her self-conscious. Now, looking back, she herself was curious.

Skye had tucked away the openly affectionate part of herself a little when she’d become Daisy Johnson. Agent Johnson. She’d wanted to harden herself. The strength of her emotions, the complete and powerful hold they had on her, had always been her downfall. This was often the case for people in her occupation, but, unlike them, her emotions could crush buildings to dust and split concrete in half. She could control it now, she was getting better at it every day, but she would never be able to forget the pain and destruction she’d caused.

_‘You will control your emotions, just like we practised.’_

The world had been falling apart then. Her world. She had been breaking apart inside, spreading that destruction outward. Putting people she cared about, her… family, in danger. And the worst part is that she hadn’t just been leading them to the danger, she had been the danger.

Daisy had gone back and watched the tapes. She’d wanted to see it from a new perspective. Out of curiosity mostly. Watching herself, her terrified younger self, shaking, everything shaking, then she’d pressed the icer to her own arm and pulled the trigger. It had been difficult to observe the first time. But, then she’d gone back and rewound it, watched it again and again.

She’d cried, watching that playback. But it wasn’t the terror on her face in the video, nor the memory of such unadulterated trauma, that had caused the drops traveling silently down her smooth cheeks.

_‘You can do this. We can do this.’_

The sight of her, Melinda May, readily raising her bare fists up against a god with a sword, a determined expression Daisy knew well set on her features, prepared to protect a girl who, for all she knew, might be about to bring the ceiling down on top of all of them. The way she’d rushed to Skye’s side, knelt on the bed, stroking strands of hair away so she could look upon her properly. Phil Coulson standing by warding off Lady Sif. Fitz yelling angrily that they needed to protect her. Simmons fumbling, desperately trying to help, totally confused, but there for her.

_‘…the first thing she did after I transformed was embrace me. Tell me, Skye, what was the first thing that S.H.I.E.L.D. did to you?’_

Maybe all of S.H.I.E.L.D hadn’t stood behind her, but the people that really mattered, they had. And May, she’d been one of the few people that hadn’t been afraid to touch her. She’d put aside her personal feelings and inclinations when it came to Andrew in order to ensure Skye had the best help possible.

Daisy had watched that part of the video again and again; fingers tracing the unconscious girl’s face.

Melinda May would probably never have done that if Skye hadn’t been sleeping. They were both too guarded, too careful for that. Humour. Adherence. Their walls might look different on the surface, but when you get down to it they’re both just walls. They both serve the same function; they’re built to keep people out… to keep people in.

Sometimes Skye had caught her; glimpses of a smile out the corner of her eye when she made a smartass comment during training, or teased Coulson repeatedly. Skye’d always felt entirely whole during those moments. When her walls fell down, and she relaxed, completely at home in their company.

 She missed playing card games on the bus, biting her lip to supress a smile at Fitz’s terrible poker face. The day she’d convinced Jemma to try PB&J with hilarious results, and a lecture on gastronomy that had gone right over her head. Once, during a supply run, they’d found a stray kitten and Fitz had tried to smuggle it onto the bus under his jumper. Her laughing at the conspicuous wriggling under the fabric had given him away. Watching Coulson trying desperately to be stern and disapproving as a pouting Fitz had reluctantly pulled the little guy out from under his sweater had left her and Jemma in fits. And Ward… Ward… he’d been there, but that was a section of the story she preferred to suppress. Distance, time to move on, had given her a more positive and unmarred perspective of her time on the Bus. It had been home, not 'a Home', but home with a lower-case letter, and now it was just another bed she’d made for the last time, and another family she’d watched fall apart around her.

 _‘They’re still here.’_ She had to remember that. Sure, they were a little broken… or very broken, but they were still alive and, for the most part, kicking, and still together… for the most part.

That was one of the things that had bothered her most about May’s disappearance. She’d just walked out of her life. A seemingly fond goodbye, a small smile, _‘You better not go soft while I’m gone, drills every morning, no skipping.’_ and then nothing, for months. She’d dealt with it better than Coulson, or, at least, she hadn’t been so obvious about how much she was hurting, throwing herself into her training instead.

_‘You can do this, Skye. I believe in you.’_

She would never admit that they were often the words she called to mind before training, before going into the field. After all, if Melinda May believed in her surely she could accomplish pretty much anything.

She got up early every morning, 6 am, while the base was just barely beginning to come to life. Workout clothes on, a towel around her shoulders, bottle in hand, like always, but walking alone down the scuffed floors of the silent hallways. No one advised her on which muscles she needed to work on in the gym anymore, when she threw punches no one was there holding the bag, none of her current partners stopped her during sparring to correct her stance. As it turned out May had spoiled her with unpredictability, the other agents she invited to spar were so very predictable, not as much of a challenge. Daisy had grown used to it all, she’d had months to do that, but it sure as hell didn’t mean she’d grown to prefer it.

_‘Let’s stick together on this.’_

Insistent words May had repeated to her on a number of occasions. _When had they become redundant?_ Secrets were something Daisy could deal with, she worked for an intelligence organisation, and sometimes the most intelligent thing to do was to keep information under wraps, but this, it felt so personal. Perhaps she was letting her emotions rule her head again. She’d kept herself busy, kept her brain focused on anything and everything else during in the day, but when she tried to drift into sleep the questions and theories filled her mind. No matter how many times she lay under her sheets, awaiting sleep, chewing her bottom lip and convincing herself, _‘I’m sure May has a good reason for keeping quiet’_ she still kept hurting.

And what hurt the most… was that May had hugged her back. Daisy had meant to make it quick, just for her own benefit, she had needed it. Then firm, lean arms had wrapped themselves around the girl’s shoulders and that had been that.

The only communication they’d had in months had been a short phone call, a spur of the moment desperate need for contact, words passing between them that were so unbearably heavy with everything they were choosing not to say, souls they wouldn’t dare bare completely.

Daisy had taken the first tentative step, _“I miss you.”_ Just the beginning of everything she wouldn’t say…

_‘I miss you. I care about you. I want you Home. Are you ever coming Home? Director doesn’t know what to do with himself without you. I’m not sure I do either… You know we love you, right? I hope to God you know that, May.’_

May had responded with a tiny step of her own, whispering so softly, _“I miss you too.” …_

_‘I miss you. I hope you’re okay. Is Phil okay? I’m sorry. I hope you know that. I hope you know how much I care, how much you mean to me, how much… how much I… love you. Both of you... I want to come Home. I hope you know this isn’t what I wanted, any of it. I hope to God you know that, Skye… Daisy.’_

So many hopes and not enough courage. It wasn’t the right time, the right place. That’s what they told themselves.

“Dinner’s going to be ready in ten if you’re hungry.” May’s voice was calm. She approached and crouched, sitting down beside Daisy on a pile of blue sparring mats with a couple of squeaks from the plastic, announcing dinner like she’d never been gone. It felt like she’d never been gone, except Daisy knew she had.

“Okay.” Daisy answered simply, gathering her courage.

A comfortable but expectant silence was shared between them for a moment.

“You can ask me about it, if you like.” May told her, eyes drifting carefully to meet the girl’s.

Daisy moistened her lips, preparing herself, “Where were you? I mean… I know you weren’t with Hunter the whole time, so, before that, where were you?”

“That’s all you want to know?” May was mildly surprised, she’d expected to be bombarded.

The younger agent nodded, slowly.

May considered lying, and then berated herself. Daisy could know this. May more than trusted her, “Looking after my dad. He was in an accident… it was my fault.” Melinda found her mind wandering to consider her father, what he would make of Daisy. She smiled at the realisation that her Baba would absolutely love the girl.

Daisy’s lips parted, her jaw dropping a tad, “I… uh, didn’t realise he was… I thought…” The idea of May taking time out to care for a sick family member was completely in character and yet never something Daisy had at any point considered. In her defense, May had never mentioned a father, and so Daisy had no reason to believe he was alive, or that May was still in contact with him.

“…he was dead?” Melinda finished her sentence for her, a small smile conveying her apparent ease despite the topic of conversation. “No.”

“Are you close?” Daisy continued, tucking her knees into herself and wrapping her arms around them. She rested her chin in the dip between her knees.

“We used to be.” Melinda said, a hint of longing in her tone, a hint of sadness.

“Are you… close to your Mom?” This time Daisy found herself unable to look May in the eye.

“My Mom and I… never really saw eye to eye.” It seemed to be a conclusive statement, a history to it Daisy apparently wasn’t privy to learning about just yet.

Daisy waited, hoping.

“She didn’t want me to join S.H.I.E.L.D, she doesn’t much like Coulson, and she still holds a grudge against me for divorcing Andrew.” Melinda May didn’t fidget, didn’t even blink, as she divulged more personal information in one sentence than she had in the years Daisy had known her.

“Sounds like there’s a story there?” Daisy probed carefully.

“Don’t push your luck.” May warned the girl, a gritty edge to her tone as the corners of her mouth drew upward. She knocked her shoulder against Daisy’s lightly.

“What’s it like?” Daisy inquired after a moment, “Having one.”

The question didn’t quite surprise May, but something jagged and sharp dug into her heart at that moment. Sometimes she took Daisy too much at face value; a competent agent, a friend, a kid she loved. She overlooked that kid’s history. She hadn’t met Skye until she was already 25 years old, and way past physically needing a parent, but an orphan was an orphan, no matter how old they became. And, not matter how old a child grows, emotionally, mothers will always been important.

Melinda remembered her return after Bahrain. After a couple of weeks avoiding Andrew, eyes downcast when she passed him on the stairs, flinching away from his touch, sleeping alone, she’d left. For the first time in over two decades she’d slept in her bed, her childhood bed, in her old room. When the nightmares had come Lian May had risen, leading her trauma-wrecked daughter down to the kitchen. A steaming cup of tea, an offering, warm mothering fingers stroking back the sweat slicked hair that clung to her child's forehead.

_'You are strong. You will survive this, wǒ de nǚ'ér.'_

“I’m not sure it’s something you can describe… it’s… subjective.” May admitted.

“Good?”

“It’s good having anyone in your life you can trust completely.” May answered, moving to avoid a simple ‘yes’. Daisy didn’t need that.

The girl steeled herself, “Like me and you?”

“…yeah.” May breathed, nodding slowly.

The air hung between them, heavy, almost impenetrable.

“You’re the closest I’ve had, you know.” Daisy bit her bottom lip, looking away, she’d clamped down on it as soon as the words had escaped. Her features scrunched up, wondering if she’d crossed the line this time.

A warm hand moved to rest over hers where it clasped her knee. The skin of May’s palm was rough, but softer than Daisy might have expected. Hands small but strong. Hands that had delivered a thousand solid punches, but, to Daisy, were so quietly reassuring.

“I…” May was lost for words. She was hardly ever lost for words. “I’m not…” It hurt. They hurt, Daisy’s words. She couldn’t bear to take comfort in them, she’d abandoned her, a girl who looked up to her, saw her as… _‘I’m not fit to be a mother, not anymore. You deserve so much better, so much more than what I can give.’_

“I know you don’t think that’s you…” Daisy sucked in a deep breath, letting it fill the corners of her lungs before she continued, “…or… maybe, you don’t think you’d be good at it. But… it is, and you are. I just… I think you should know that, May.”

“Daisy…” The soft words fell way before she could say them. May’s hand left her younger agent’s and reached around to clasp her shoulder, bringing the girl close.

Daisy breathed in the moment, face pressed into the fabric at May’s shoulder. It smelt faintly like posies of fresh lavender, and something undecipherable… that smell that hangs about old memories. The smell that lingers on an old teddy bear, or that bright birthday card you received on your 7th birthday. Nostalgia. A sob caught in her throat. She didn’t want to cry.

“Are you done being brave now?” May murmured into her hair.

“For now, I guess.” Daisy laughed a little, quiet, muffled by May’s shirt.

 “You’re the closest I’ve had too.” May whispered while she still had the courage, running a hand comfortingly up and down the girl’s back.

“Hope I’m not a disappointment.” Daisy sighed, still feeling a bit sorry for herself. Truthfully it wasn’t something she’d planned to say aloud, not something she’d wanted May to hear.

“Never been prouder.” Melinda May didn’t speak softly this time. This time she spoke like it was the complete and apparent, unbiased truth. And it was.

 

 

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__please follow me at[coulsonskids](http://www.coulsonskids.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! i'm taking prompts_ _

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 Wǒ de nǚ'ér (Pinyin) = My Daughter (English)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Considering I had no idea what this was going to end up looking like when I started typing I think it turned out okay actually.


End file.
